


Oh thank God. You're out here too.

by gwmclintock88



Series: Across the Whedonverse [11]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spoilers, Whedonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwmclintock88/pseuds/gwmclintock88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma finds herself lost after being sucked into the rock. But she's not alone.</p>
<p>Wherever she is, she meets someone just as lost as she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh thank God. You're out here too.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that so far, all of the Jemma storylines for this multiverse are sad. I'm going to have to give her a happy story eventually. 
> 
> This story takes place after AoS Season 2, and after Whedon's run on Astonishing X-Men. There are huge spoilers for both, though I'm not quite direct about them. Whedon's run is probably one of my favor story in comics, well top ten at least. 
> 
> This story evolved out of the thought of where Jemma went, and who could she meet. I also did something completely different with the beginning that I hope you enjoy too.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

Lost. /“So lost.”

Help me. “Someone, anyone.”

I…I’m lost. / “Help me.

It’s dark. / “I’m trapped.”

I can’t see anything. / “It’s dark.”

Someone? / “Anyone?”

Anyone? / “Someone?”

Please. I don’t want to be alone. / “I’m all alone.”

I’m lost. / “I’m lost.”

Out here in the dark. / “Alone and wide awake”

Down, up, left right. / “I don’t know where I’m going.”

Come and find me. / “Come and find me.”

Who I am. / “Who was I?”

Who I was. / “Who am I?”

It’s been so long. / “Too long.”

Too long. / “It’s been so long.”

Please. Someone, “anyone. Please”

“Hello? Is anybody out there?”

Oh thank God. You’re out here too

“Yes. I...guess I’m here wherever here is. Where are you?”

I don’t know where I am.

“Neither do I.”

Oh. That’s not good.

“No, I guess it’s not.”

How are you talking?

“How are you?”

I’m not talking? Or you’re not talking.

“I’m not sure. Maybe both?”

Yes. Yes that sounds better. Can I…

“Hey! I can feel that.”

I should hope so.

“No, I mean, you shouldn’t be able to.”

No, I shouldn’t.

“Maybe…”

We help each other?

“Yes. That.”

How?

“I don’t know.”

You’re here though.

“I’m here. You’re here too?”

I think so. Or I’m going insane.

“Then I am too.”

I could just be talking to myself.

“Or I’m talking to myself.”

Yes, that is a strong possibility.

“Are you me?”

Am I you? Don’t you mean, are you me?

“It’s semantics, isn’t it?”

Maybe. Still, best to figure this out.

“Really? That’s your idea? Figure out which is the real one?”

Yes. I don’t here you coming up with any better suggestions.

“Well maybe I would if someone would stop talking!”

Fine!

“Fine!”

…

“…”

It’s funny.

“What is?”

Why I thought you were someone else.

“I guess…I guess my reason was kind of sad.”

Well, not funny ha-ha, more funny ironic.

“I understand that.”

You tell me yours, I tell you mine.

“Maybe that is an indicator of us not being the same. Two different thoughts with no foreknowledge of the other thought.”

Maybe. Or this is just a special brand of insanity.

“Either way. You first.”

Anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?

“All the time. You first.”

…You said my words.

“What?”

Well, not said ‘said,’ but you understand what I mean?

“Yeah, I do.”

And I just thought ‘How sad that I have to end up here to find someone who says them?’

“Not very sad at all. I mean, you’re not the only one with that thought.”

Please don’t tell me we’re going to argue about the real one again.

“No, I promise. Not that. I just…I’d show you, except right now, I don’t think I have a body.”

I’m pretty sure you do. I know I have one.

“Well, I have one, I’m just not sure where it is, where am I. You know, the usual things.”

Yeah, those things kind of suck.

“…”

…

“So tell me, possible soulmate-slash-split personality, what should I call you?”

Kitty. I’m Kitty.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Jemma.”

**I0I**

When they finally managed to pull Jemma out of that rock, she had changed. The world had changed. Three months had passed and people moved on, or at least tried to move on. She felt that darkness inside of her, breaking on clean shores. She felt an emptiness of the void, being pass through by the intangible. Mostly, she just felt alone.

            Her brain told her she built Kitty out of nothing in order to cope with everything, except there was too much person to Kitty Pyrde to just be some construct of her imagination. Too much personality, too much sass, too much love. They talked of their histories, shared the paths they took to get there.  They talked of the inhumans, of the mutants. She told Kitty of San Juan, and Afterlife. Kitty told her of Xaviers’ and Breakworld. Everything that she was Jemma she shared with Kitty, her lady of the void. And everything that was Kitty was shared with her.

            One of the first things she did when she had a moment alone was to check her words again. They were always a part of her, always there, and yet, now with nothing to hold onto, she is left questioning if those words were ever whispered in the dark, or if they were just smoke from a dying ember.

            She had to believe in something, and she chooses to believe in Kitty, in them, in herself. Her mind did not just make this up to cope with the strain of being somewhere unknown. She was lost, but she was not alone. Kitty was real, and she is her soulmate.

            It’s how she found herself staring up at the stars, watching for a shooting one and praying it was Kitty. She left a part of herself there with her soulmate, or at least she hoped she did, as that would explain why she sometimes would just phase through things. Not all the time and not fully. Never enough to hurt her either, but being there in the nothingness, she must have taking on the nothingness to survive. That was logical, especially since it would be illogical to assume that Kitty gave a little of herself so Jemma could live.

            If that was the case, then Jemma would gladly give all of it back just to have Kitty with her.

            The bullet should have gone on forever. That is how physics works. Nothing to stop it, no momentum to change its course. Kitty holds it perpetually out of sync with everything. An amazing feat, but one that is slowly going to kill her. Jemma feels it each time she closes her eyes, each time she goes to sleep and is left with the same nothingness she floated around with for what seemed like millennia.

            Her soulmate will die somewhere far, far away. And there is nothing she can do about it. After a while, it’s just easier to think of Kitty as figment of her imagination. It was all a way to cope with what was happening to her.

            Except the figment haunts her dreams, and when she’s awake, sometimes, Jemma steps just out of phase with things and then she has to forget all over again.

**I0I**

“Jemma?”

            “Fitz, not now, we need to figure out an antiserum,” Jemma remained hunched over microscope. She almost had it, just a few more tests, a few more minutes, and bada-bing, bada-boom, she’d figure this out. She pulled out the slide and slipped in the next one. It was a slightly different compound and hopefully may tell her more.

            “There is…”

            “Hello.”

            Jemma nearly dropped the slide she was in the process of examining. Actually she did drop it, but not because her hands were shaking or anything like that. For a moment, she forgot to hold herself together and the slide slipped through her palm as if it was never there. It shattered on the ground, sending dead bacteria scattering around the room while the glass just kind of stayed there.

            “Damn, maybe you two linked,” said a gruffy old man. He stood maybe a few inches taller than her, maybe, and was smoking some cigar in the middle of her lab. Had it been any other day or time, she’d have told him off. Much like she told off Mac for drinking a beer in her lab.

            “Kitty,” Jemma whispered, taking a step forward. It wasn’t a dream, or a figment, or a nightmare. It was real. Kitty was real.

            The young woman in question gave her a tentative smile, and brushed a brown lock out of her face. She stood in the doorway, uncertainty etched across her fetches. Blue eyes followed hers as Jemma stepped around each obstacle in her path, or threw it in the case of one particularly annoying stool.

            “Who the hell are these people?” Fitz asked, nearly screaming at her for respond.

            “They are….I don’t know who he is,” Jemma said, waving at the scruffy looking man, “but she is my soulmate.”

            “What?”

            “Easy there bub,” the man said. He held out a hand, stopping her from taking a step forward. “She can’t…she’s barely stopping herself from sinking into the floor.”

            Tears began to well in Kitty’s eyes and on instinct, Jemma reached out to brush them away.  She half expected her hand to pass through this mirage, but instead, she found the warmth she’d missed all those months ago. “You’re here.”

            “I’m here.” Kitty held up her hands, then dropped them, then held them up again. Jemma let her hand move on its own, rubbing Kitty’s cheek before moving toward the neck. She drew a small circle with her thumb, focusing on the calming motion instead of trying not to cry.

            “Shit,” the man said. “Now I owe frost money.”

            “Who?” Fitz asked. “Who are you? Who is she? What the hell is going on here?”

            “Relax Fitz.” Jemma didn’t turn to know Coulson had slipped into the room somehow. “I shouldn’t have been surprised that you snuck in here Logan. Should I even ask how you did it?” The scruffy man named Logan shrugged his shoulders and took another puff on his cigar.  “Thought not. So, Simmons, are you going to introduce us?”

            “This is…this is Kitty. She is here.”

            “Yes, you said that,” Fitz said. He wasn’t quite growling, but it was as close as he ever got. He tried to act so tough sometimes, and it did work, once. He just was too much of a sweetie to pull off intimating without some machine besides him.

            “Kitty? As in Katherine Pryde?” Coulson stepped somewhere behind her as Kitty’s hands moved up to touch her. Thin fingers - too thin actually, and that was saying something considering Jemma usually didn’t eat enough herself. Maybe that could change if she had someone else to look after – brushed a strand of her hair. One of them passed through it, dipping into her scalp. The sensation was weird, but Jemma ignored it for the warmth of the touch. Kitty choked out a giggle.

            “You still have files on us?” Logan asked. Jemma began to tune out the conversation around her.

            The simple touches weren’t enough, so finally, Jemma drew Kitty into her completely. Jemma let Kitty’s weight lean on her. Her forward momentum carried her almost through Jemma, but she held on, drawing her back to a simple hug. “I’ve got you. I’m here, we’re here.”

            “I thought I’d never get to touch you,” Kitty whispered back. “Never get home.”

            “Well, you are,” Jemma said. “Home. We’re here, and we’re together, and we’re home.”

            “I’m afraid to let go.”

            “Then don’t.”

            And she didn’t.  

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except the plot. Please let me know if there is any issues with characterization or voices. I tried to do the characters justice, but I am open to honest and fair criticism.
> 
> If you have a pairing you'd like read, please let me know. Anyone from anything by Whedon is fair game, so let me know.
> 
> Good night and good luck.


End file.
